


More Than You Could Ever Know

by snow_queen16



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, JeanMarco Gift Exchange, M/M, meddling Springles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snow_queen16/pseuds/snow_queen16
Summary: Jean takes a chance at a job offer in Jinae, and jumps at the chance to repay his befreckled best friend for letting him stay in his apartment.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firegrilled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firegrilled/gifts).



> Written for firegrilled for the 2016 JM Gift Exchange! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

            Jean inhales deeply as he turns into the parking lot. He’s nervous, why is he so nervous? It’s just Marco’s apartment- technically, his and Marco’s apartment, at least until he finds his own place. He and Marco have been friends for nearly fifteen years now, so his nerves are more than a little ridiculous. Marco’s seen every embarrassing haircut, every terrible fashion choice, every pathetic unrequited crush. He might’ve only seen the train wreck of his life via obsessive texts and skype sessions the last few years, but that doesn’t make him a stranger.

            He parks the car next to Marco’s familiar old Toyota, wheezing as the cold bites him. Jinae is only four hours away from Trost, how the hell is there such a huge difference in temperature? He mutters assorted curses under his breath as he grabs his laptop case and a duffle bag from the front seat –the rest of his crap loaded in the backseat is going to have to wait until tomorrow.

            Hurrying towards the front door, Jean can’t help but be impressed with the house. It’s an old Victorian, impeccably kept up; pristine paint and woodwork, the lot and sidewalks neatly shoveled despite the earlier snowfall. It’s just like Marco to pick a place like that, he thinks, hiding a smile as he jogs up the steps. Beautiful and neat and just a shade old-fashioned, the house matches him perfectly.

            “What are you giggling about?”

            “Marco!” Jean grins as he catches sight of his friend at the door. He resists the urge to throw himself into his arms; as much as he’d like to, he doesn’t want to make a scene.

            “I heard your car pull up,” Marco says smiling broadly, and pulls him into a tight hug. Jean lets Marco swallow him up in his arms, enjoying the other man’s warmth and scent; strong and clean with just a hint of musky pine. Or maybe it’s cedar? Either way, Marco smells delicious and Jean could happily spend the rest of the night in his arms. “Uh, Jean? I’m happy to see you too but I’m not wearing a coat, so-”

            “Fuck! Yeah, sorry, let’s get inside,” Jean says, hurriedly backing away, blushing furiously as his voice cracks. He’s an awkward mess, and Jean hates it. An obvious awkward mess, he thinks, watching the lines of Marco’s shoulder blades as he guides him through the neatly decorated lobby. There are times Marco reads him so well, Jean could swear he’s read his mind. His face, his body language seem to be an open book to him, even over skype, and Jean can’t quite believe Marco’s never noticed the titanic crush he has on him.

            “Jean? Are you listening?” Marco pauses at a door, quirking an eyebrow as he turns the knob.

            “Uh, sorry,” Jean feels his face burn. “Just a little out of it from the drive,”

            “I understand,” Marco says with a small nod, then nudges his shoulder. “Come on in, I’ll show you to the guest, uh, couch.” Their eyes catch and they laugh, the uncomfortable strangeness between them dissipating.

 

 

            “Sorry there isn’t more privacy,” Marco says, scratching the back of his head as he watches Jean unpack his clothes into the dresser in his closet. It’s the only extra piece of furniture he has, and that’s only because he begged it off his mother when Jean told him he was moving to Jinae for work. It was impulsive of him to insist he stay with him until he finds a place of his own, and Marco realizes that he never quite considered all the implications of sharing his tiny apartment. No guest bed, one bathroom, one TV . . .

            “Don’t worry, it’s not like you’re going to walk in on me rubbing one out on your couch,” Jean says with a snicker. Marco flushes, shrugging.

            “If you ever get sick of me, just say the word, okay? Like, if I’m playing Xbox or whatever and you want to sleep, feel free to-”

            “Marco,” Jean straightens, dropping his hands forcefully on Marco’s shoulders. He’s only a few inches shorter than he is, and their eyes are just about level. “I’m never going to get sick of you, got it? If that was going to happen, it would’ve been a long time ago.”

            “Never say never,” he murmurs, ignoring the fluttering in his chest. Jean groans, rolling his eyes.

            “You’re such a brat sometimes. Order me a pizza and let’s go over all the hot Jinae gossip. Let’s start with hot girls; namely, are there any?” Marco snorts, shaking his head as he watches Jean saunter out of his bedroom.

            “There are a few girls who might be your type, but they’ve all got kids, so . . .” Marco trails off as he follows Jean to the living room, and plops beside him on the couch. It’s not exactly a lie, he reasons. There are plenty of pretty young mothers in Jinae, several of which he’s sure Jean would be interested in. There are also equal numbers of pretty single women, though he feels it’s unnecessary to bring up.

            “Okay, not hot chicks. Any hot guys? Wait; any hot _single_ gay guys?” Jean says casually. Marco can’t ignore the needle of jealousy at the offhand comment. He’s known for years that Jean is bi –he was the first person he told, after all- but damned if it doesn’t still sting to think of Jean wanting a man other than him. Marco can’t pretend his jealousy is reasonable; it’s not like he’s ever made a move on him, or that he plans on it either. He’s wanted to for a while, but their friendship is too important to risk. Jean’s never really expressed any interest in him, not like that, and Marco’s biggest fear is making things awkward between them.

            “Hmm, just the one I think.” he says with a casual shrug, and gestures at himself. Jean stops, giving him an odd look before bursting into cackling laughter.

            “Guess I’m going to be single for a while then,” he says finally, but gives Marco a grin. “You’re the only person I need here anyway.”

            “Same here,” Marco says, and in spite of his better judgement, allows himself to revel in the warmth of Jean’s words.

 

 

            “Do you want to go sightseeing later?” Marco says with a chipper grin. Jean glances out the window at snow flying in front of the last vestiges of the sunset, then gives him a look.

            “Later today?”

            “Why not? It’s just a little snow,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he does his best to keep a straight face.

            “Maybe for you, freckles, but I’m not setting foot outside this apartment while that’s going on,” Jean says with a grimace. Marco laughs, leaning into Jean’s shoulder.

            “It’s all right; there isn’t a lot to see in Jinae anyway. There’s one really nice part of Main Street with a bunch of nice shops and a coffee place I think you’d like, but I guess that can wait until tomorrow.” Marco snuggles closer against Jean.

            “Coffee tomorrow sounds good,” he says carefully, wanting to slip his arm around the other man’s shoulders but unwilling to move and risk unsettling him.

            “Oh! Do you want to pick out a tree tomorrow too?” Marco sits up excitedly, grabbing Jean’s leg and shaking it.

            “If you want to, sure. I thought it was weird you didn’t have one yet, you love Christmas.” Jean says, though he’s more distracted by the heat from Marco’s hand sinking through his jeans than anything else.

            “Well, I told you I got volunteered for the overnight Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, right? I didn’t think that I’d be doing much celebrating.”

            “Yeah, you mentioned it.” Jean says, frowning. He feels bad; he knows that Marco loves his work as an EMT, but he’s seen how draining the twelve hour shifts can be. And working not only Christmas Eve, but Christmas Day on top of it . . . Personally, Jean could take it or leave it; Christmas wasn’t his holiday. Sure, when he was a kid he’d gotten into the magic of the season, but as he grew up and his parents started to take week-long romantic vacations over the holiday, he’d lost interest. Marco, however, relished every second of it. He loved the good deeds, the music, seeing all his very extended family. Jean knows missing that is going to be hard on him. “It’s bullshit your mom decided to move the family gathering to Sina this year.”

            “You know how cautious Alessia’s been about the baby,” Marco says with a shrug. “She doesn’t want to take him out of the house yet. And Mom too; it’s her first grandkid so she’s going to be overprotective.”

            “I mean, I get it but it sucks for you.” he says, and covers Marco’s hand –still resting between his knee and his thigh- with his.

            “Not now.” Marco grins shyly at him. “I’m glad that you could come stay with me a little earlier than you planned,”

            “What would I be doing in Trost?” Jean says with a snort. “Mom and Dad are in like Tahiti or Jamaica or something, I’m not working until after New Year’s. I might as well come bug you while I apartment hunt.”

            “I’m glad you did,” he says softly, and again, rests his head on Jean’s shoulder as he cuddles closer. Jean inhales deeply, sliding his arm around Marco’s shoulders as he lets his eyes flutter closed. He wonders if it’s normal for the two of them to be so touchy feely. Eren and Armin don’t act like them, none of his male friends do. Hell, none of his female friends do either. It doesn’t bother him, but he does wonder if he’s taking advantage of Marco’s affectionate nature for selfish reasons. Together like this, Marco holding on to him, Jean’s fingers trailing up to play with his hair, it’s so easy for him to pretend they’re more than friends.

            “I’m glad I did too,” Jean says, laying his head on Marco’s, and fights the urge to press a gentle kiss on the top of his head as he does.

 

 

*

 

           

            “It’s too early to go out for coffee,” Jean grumbles as he climbs out of the car. Marco watches as he glances around Jinae’s quaint main street.

            “Oh, so you don’t want any then?” He grins, tugging the end of Jean’s scarf. His eyes narrow and he grabs the front of Marco’s parka, tugging him down, closer, so their noses almost touch. Marco’s heart beats wildly; he can feel the warmth of Jean’s breath on his lips, and his golden eyes meet his, still hazy with sleep. How many times has he fantasized about this, about Jean grabbing him and holding him close and- Marco inhales, cutting off the thought. Too many times to count.

            “Don’t joke about that,” he says gruffly, almost immediately stepping back and dropping his hand. His cheeks are flushed, though Marco isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or- he shakes his head. If course it’s because of the cold.

            “Oooooh! You guys look awful cozy on such a cold day,” Sasha bounces up beside them on the sidewalk, Connie a step behind her.

            “What are you guys doing here?” Jean says, surprised, but pulls them both into a hug. “I thought you moved back to Dauper after college,”

            “We did for a while, but Connie and my dad didn’t get along all that well,” Sasha says with a giggle.

            “Your dad’s a freaking psycho, that’s why. Heya Jean.” Connie says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Let’s catch up inside, yeah? I’m fucking cold!”

            “No arguments here,” Jean says, and eagerly follows them inside the coffee shop.

            “Was that what I thought it was?” Sasha says, keeping her voice low as Connie and Jean walk up to the counter. Marco flushes, shaking his head.

            “We were just fooling around. Platonically fooling around, all right?”

            “If you say so.” Sasha shrugs, loosening her scarf and unzipping her coat. “Jeeeeeannnnn!” Marco chuckles as she jumps on his back, squeezing him.

            “Holy fucking- Sasha!” Jean struggles against her iron grip, finally freeing one arm, and pushes her the rest of the way off as she and Connie laugh.

 

            “So Jean, what are you doing in Jinae? Spending a romantic Christmas with Marco?” Sasha says, sipping her mocha as they take over one of the shop’s tables.

            “Romantic?” Jean coughs, his face beet red. Marco scowls at her, kicking her shin under the table.

            “Jean got a job with a law firm here. He’s staying with me until he finds an apartment.”

            “Didn’t your dad give you a job at his firm in Trost?” Connie says. Jean shrugs and takes a drink of his coffee.

            “Yeah, but he’s a total hardass. I didn’t expect him to baby me or anything, but he’s going out of his way not to show any favoritism. I thought it’d be easier after a year or two, but . . .” He sighs, shaking his head. “I put out a couple feelers, and got the job here.”

            “But why Jinae?” Connie presses. “I figured you would’ve gone to like Sina or something,”

            “I wanted a change of pace. Admittedly, I mostly took the job here because I miss Marco,” he says, his cheeks lightly pink as he meets Marco’s eyes. Marco smiles, giving his shoulder a light push.

            “So cute!” Sasha sighs wistfully.

            “Shut the fuck up,” Jean says, scowling at her. “I can’t believe I forgot you two goofballs moved out here.”

            “Are you implying you would’ve gotten a job somewhere else, horse boy?” Sasha says, pretending to pout. Jean makes a face.

            “Maybe.”

            “Please!” She and Connie exchange glances and share a giggle. “Anyway, you two are coming to our ugly sweater party, right?”

            “Are you serious?” Jean snickers. “Who still throws ugly sweater parties?”

            “We do, because they’re fun.” Connie says with an unoffended shrug. “You’re coming, right?”

            “I’m in if Marco’s in,” Jean says quickly.

            “When is it?” He was looking forward to having Jean all to himself the next few days he has off, but a party could be fun. Sasha and Connie throw excellent parties.

            “Christmas Eve Eve.” Sasha says promptly. Marco chuckles.

            “That should work; I don’t have to work again until Christmas Eve.”

            “Sweet!” Jean grins at him. “It’ll be fun,”

            “Yeah,” Marco agrees, smiling warmly at him.

 

 

            “Oh, I should warn you,” Connie says, frowning as he looks at Marco. “Mina is coming.” Jean isn’t sure who Mina is, but he doesn’t miss the shadow that ever so briefly crosses Marco’s face.

            “Who’s Mina?” he says, unconcerned about prying. Marco is _his_ , his best friend, his -roommate. He tells himself he has a right to know.

            “Mina is a friend of mine,” Sasha says, a faint frown. “She’s a really nice girl buuuuut . . . She has a huge crush on Marco.”

            “Does she not know you’re gay?” Jean quirks an eyebrow. Marco blushes.

            “I’ve told her. She’s . . . persistent.”

            “She’s an idiot you mean,” Jean snaps, unreasonably irritated both with this mysterious girl and Marco for encouraging it whether he means to or not. He knows firsthand how easy it is to read more into Marco’s kindness than what’s there. “Have you tried telling her to fuck off instead of being polite?”

            “Jean.” Marco says, his voice taut as he focuses on his latte.

            “Sorry.” Jean says, though he doesn’t mean it. “So what, is she going to be throwing herself on him all night or something?”

            “She usually does,” Sasha says, then pauses as a huge grin envelopes her face. “But maybe you can help with that.”

            “What do you mean?” Jean says, intrigued. There’s one way he can help that springs to mind, but he doesn’t want to be the one to suggest it.

            “Part of the reason Mina doesn’t believe Marco is really gay is that she’s never seen him date anyone. Since you guys are such good friends, maybe-”

            “No.” Marco says, his face unusually grim. “I can’t ask Jean to pretend to- He doesn’t want to do that.”

            “I never said that,” Jean says quietly. He frowns, playing with the lid of his coffee, springing the open piece back and forth. “You’re doing me a huge favor by letting me crash on your couch. Least I can do is hold your hand and pretend to be your boyfriend for a night. Unless you want her to keep bugging you?”

            “I don’t,” Marco says hesitantly. “But that’s a lot to ask-”

            “Shut the fuck up, freckles.” Jean grins, tamping down his excitement. He and Marco would be going to a party- _together._ Like _together_  together. It’s pretend, not a real date, but his heart flutters all the same. “You know I’ll always help you out, no matter what it is. What else are best friends for?”

 

 

*

 

 

            **[horsey wonder]:  dude sash I love you**

**[sent]: lawl dont tell con hell keeeell u**

**[sent]: y tho**

**[horsey wonder]: you know why**

**[sent]: ooooo cuz i got marco to pretend to date u**

**[sent]: thats y rite**

**[sent]: rite**

**[sent]: RITE**

**{sent]: ?????????????????**

**[horsey wonder]: yes you psycho!**

**[horsey wonder]: fuck you and all your texts**

**[horsey wonder]: marcos giving me weird looks now, we were buying a Christmas tree when you sent them all**

**[sent]: just tell him u love him n hell b fine**

**[horsey wonder]: lol**

**[horsey wonder]: that would be weird tho**

**[sent]: u guys r hopeless**

**[sent]: JUST KISS ALREADY**

**[horsey wonder]: MAYBE TOMORROW GOSH**

**[sent]: AWWWWW SNIZZAAP**

**[Marco]: Sasha I hate you**

**[sent]: noooo u had con change ur contact back didn’t u??** **L** **L**

**[sent]: n y do u hate me this time**

**[sent]: ?**

**[freckled jesus]: Oh I don’t know, maybe the whole ‘Jean why don’t you pretend to be Marco’s boyfriend’ thing??**

**[sent]: ur puttin werds n my mouth**

**[sent]: I never said that**

**[sent]: I meant it but he said it**

**[sent]: u could say its his idea**

**[freckled jesus]: He just agreed because he feels obligated to. If things get weird between us I’m blaming you.**

**[sent]: lawl**

**[sent]: ur both so dumb**

**[sent]: just enjoy the party**

**[sent]: n all the missletow WHAT**

**[freckled jesus]: Mistletoe?!**

 

            “Oh my god! Connie, can I tell them?” Sasha says, groaning half in excitement and half in frustration as she sets her phone face down on the counter. Connie looks up from the register, where he’s cashing out an older lady for a hunting knife. He gives her a puzzled look as he sends the customer towards her for gift wrapping. She’s friendly as she wraps it, though she resents the small talk. Normally, Sasha loves it- she loves every aspect of her and Connie’s sporting goods store. But this morning, she’s wrapped up in the drama between their friends and wants to enjoy it as deeply as she can.

            “What were you talking about? Tell who what?” Connie says after the customer leaves.

            “Marco and Jean.” Sasha giggles, shaking her head. “Jean is texting me how much he loves me and the idea of pretending to be Marco’s date to the party, and Marco is texting me how much he hates me for it. Please Connie! I know we agreed not to meddle-”

            “We promised Marco.” Connie says stubbornly. “And I promised Jean I’d never tell anyone about his drunken love confession; he was so pissed when he found out I told you! No. We’re not doing anything or saying anything.”

            “But they love each other! Don’t you want them to be happy?” Sasha insists.

            “Yeah, but we can’t just push them in a closet and tell them ‘hey, you guys said it was a secret but guess what? You’re both in love with each other!’. Right?” Connie stops, frowning.

            “I mean, we _could_ -”

            “We could also leave them alone and see what happens tomorrow night. We did all that planning, remember?” Connie says, grinning. “Don’t you think it’ll be more fun to watch it all fall into place?”

            “Hmm, I knew there was a reason I love you.” Sasha smiles affectionately at him, closing the few feet between them and pulling him into her arms.

 

 

*

 

 

            “Last chance to back out of this,” Marco says, his voice wavering as he and Jean crunch their way up Sasha and Connie’s driveway.

            “Back out of what?” Jean frowns, adjusting the pitcher of spiked eggnog he’s carrying. Marco pauses at the steps, shrugging awkwardly as he meets his eyes then quickly looks away.

            “You know, the whole . . . Pretend boyfriend thing,” He grimaces, his face flushed. “You really don’t have to.”

            “If you don’t want me to do it, I won’t.” Jean says, careful to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He wants to do this, even for one night, but he’s doesn’t want to make things weird, doesn’t want Marco to be uncomfortable. “But I’m happy to help you. Okay?” He swallows nervously, then holds out his hand. Marco stares at it for a second, his blush deepening, before hesitantly taking  it.

            “Okay.” They hold hands like a pair of children, hands cupped together as their palms meet.

            “Wait a minute, like this. Gotta make it believable,” Jean says, forcing their fingers to lace. Already, he knows he’s going to enjoy their little game of pretend a little too much. He might regret it tomorrow when their hands fall apart and everything settles back to normal, but for tonight he’s going to savor every second.

            “Jeez,” Marco says, exasperated but not unkind. They make their way up the steps to the porch, and ring the bell. Loud music can be faintly heard, as well as the various screams and bangs that inevitably  accompanied one of the Wonder Twins’ parties. Jean was suddenly hit with a nostalgia for the crazy parties all of them –Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Annie, Reiner, Bertholdt, Sasha, Connie, and of course, Marco- threw back in undergrad. How long had it been since all of them had been together? Maybe for New Year’s he could finagle something so they all could get together.

            “Wooooo, you guys made it!” Sasha shouts as she swings the door open.

            “Bearing gifts,” Jean says and holds up the pitcher. “Half eggnog, half rum. Figured it would be festive.”

            “Perfect! Put it in the kitchen? Also, Mina’s in there,” Sasha adds in a stage whisper. Marco groans, rubbing his face with his free hand.

            “Action?” Jean raises an eyebrow.

            “Yeah, yeah.” Marco mutters. Jean pretends to pout as they pass Sasha, Marco leading the way to the kitchen.

            “Don’t get too excited. Baby,” He smirks as Marco blushes, taking the opportunity to move their hands to press a kiss into the back of Marco’s hand.

            “Jean, you don’t need-”

            “We’ve got to sell it, I told you.” Jean says petulantly. “What are you going to call me?”

            “Hmm, I think asshole suits you perfectly.” Marco says with a laugh, squeezing his hand good-naturedly. Jean grins.

            “Oh, Marco! I didn’t realize you were here,” A girl smiles sweetly at Jean’s pretend boyfriend as they walk into the kitchen. She strikes him as utterly average; not bad looking, but not a girl he’d go out of his way to hit on. And pigtails?! How old is she? Jean gives her a predatory grin as he squeezes Marco’s hand protectively.

            “Mina! Um, nice to see you,”

            “Babe, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

            “Oh, er, of course! Darling. Jean, this is Sasha’s friend Mina. Mina, this is Jean. My, ah, boyfriend,”

            “Boyfriend.” she repeats dumbly, her face flushed as she finally follows the lines of their arms to where they intersect. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone,”

            “Well, he is.” Jean sneers, unable to stop himself.

            “Jean,” Marco says warningly. Jean shrugs, letting his hand drop as he makes his way to the fridge. He scowls as he opens the door, shoving various two liters and mystery Tupperwares out of the way of the eggnog.

            “I’m a jealous guy, what can I say?”

            “How long have you been together?” Mina forces a polite smile, glancing disappointedly from Jean to Marco.

            “We’ve been friends for years and years, then all of a sudden it just happened,” Marco says.

            “All of a sudden _what_ happened?” she prods, frowning as she crosses her arms.

            “Jesus, you’re nosy.” Jean snaps, irritated. He doesn’t mean to; part of him is sure she’s a nice girl besides her stubborn interest in Marco, but he’s too possessive to care. Marco is his, and she needs to back off.

            “He makes me happy, Mina.”

            “Great. Great for you guys! I’m- I’m glad you’re happy,” Mina says, her voice filled with insincere cheeriness. She grabs her drink, parring Marco awkwardly on the shoulder as she flees the room.

            “Was that too mean?” Marco sighs, biting his lip. “I feel like that was too harsh. Like we should have toned it down a little-”

            “Relax, it was perfect.” Jean says with a shrug, and reopens the fridge to snag a couple cans of beer, tossing one to Marco. “Or would you rather hanging off of you all night?”

            “Well _no_ , but . . .”

            “’Oh Marco, you’re _soooo_ hot! Oh Marco, I’ll make you switch teams!’” Jean simpers, grabbing Marco’s bicep and pressing it into his chest. He flutters his eyelashes at him as he grinds his chest into his arm, doing his best to keep a straight face. Giggles escape through Marco’s lips, though he refuses to look in Jean’s direction. “Marco-!” Connie walks into the kitchen, raises his eyebrows to where his hairline would be had he had any, and then slowly walks back out without saying a word. Jean finally catches Marco’s eye, and the two dissolve into laughter.

 

 

            Hours later, Marco is more than a little buzzed. He and Jean are wrapped around each other on the couch, half paying attention to the conversation going on around him as well as the Christmas movie playing softly in the background. Earlier, he’d been far too anxious and self-conscious about this nonsense with Jean, but after four beers and three hefty shots, Marco is finally allowing himself to enjoy it.

            “How long have you and Jean been together? You look so close,” Hannah, one half of Sasha and Connie’s cutesy newlywed neighbors asks. Marco blinks owlishly at her, the question not quite registering.

            “Freckles, are you listening?”

            “Huh? I was not. Not listening, I mean.” Marco says, then presses his face into Jean’s shoulder as he giggles.

            “Do you need me to finish that off for you? Ymir basically poured half a bottle of Jack into your Coke,” Jean says, his face slightly pink as he reaches for Marco’s cup. Marco moves it back, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

            “Tsk tsk! Trying to steal my booze for yourself,”

            “If you stop being acting like a gross pair of teenagers, I’ll make you one.” Ymir says. She and her girlfriend Historia sat on the loveseat opposite, just as entwined around each other as he and Jean were.

            “Hannah, I think Marco said they only got together recently.” Mina says, her voice somewhat strained. Marco sips his drink, feeling a twinge of guilt. The whole charade is ridiculous; Mina is persistent and irritating, but there was no need to parade around with Jean holding hands and cuddling on the couch.

            “We did,” Jean agrees smoothly, giving Marco’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Marco’s been my best friend since middle school, so we’d been close for literally ages before we started dating.”

            “That’s so sweet!” Hannah beams at them as she laughs, holding tightly onto her husband Franz’s arm.

            “I knew as soon as I met Hannah she was the one for me.” Franz says, pausing thoughtfully. “Did you not know when you met each other?”

            “We were like twelve when we met,” Jean says, snorting. “Not every relationship is like a cheesy romance movie where the stars align and you fucking _know_ as soon as you meet the person.”

            “All right, all right.” Franz chuckles, holding up his hands. “When did you realize you were in love then?”

            “Huh,” Jean stops, staring blankly at the carpet. He’s silent for so long, Marco is sure he’s drunkenly spaced out or avoiding the question, but he finally speaks. “I think it was Thanksgiving break our freshman year of college; that or some other long weekend we had off. We both had the worst colds ever and the dorm was a shithole so my mom convinced us to come stay at the house so she could make us soup and baby us, you know, typical mom stuff. We ended up camping out in the giant bed in one of the guest rooms and didn’t really move for like three days straight; all we did was suck down tea and secrete mucus and watch cartoons. After we got back to the dorm, I realized there wasn’t anyone else I would’ve rather spent that weekend with, not an ex-girlfriend, not the girl I was crushing on, not the guy I wanted to sleep with. Just Marco,” he says, blushing furiously as he looks up. He disentangles himself from Marco, unable to look in his direction. “I need another drink,”

            “He’s such a softy.” Ymir snickers, watching as he retreats to the kitchen. “I thought he was this giant douche when you guys came, but he’s just a big tsundere, isn’t he?”

            “Like you’re not the exact same?” Historia says, affectionately caressing her cheek.

            “I . . . I need another drink too,” Marco says absently, ignoring the laughter as he sets down his still-full cup of mostly whiskey. He stumbles once or twice as he makes his way to the kitchen, too preoccupied with Jean’s strange answer. He remembers that weekend vividly; he’d been in the throes of the massive crush on Jean he’d had since junior year of high school, and spending so much time in such close proximity had been electrifying and nerve-wracking at once.

            “I’m such a fucking _moron!_ ” Jean moans, running his hands through his hair as he bends over. He lets his head hang between his knees as he continues to aggressively ruffle his hair.

            “Why?” Jean mutters a curse at Marco’s question, straightening too quickly and thwacking his arm on the counter.

            “Fucking- goddammit Marco! Don’t do that,”

            “What, ask questions?” he says, raising an eyebrow. Jean scowls.

            “Not what I meant, but yeah, that too.”

            “Jeeeean,” Marco says, carefully drawing out the first syllable; he knows how much it irks him.

            “Don’t Jean me,” he says peevishly. “I know that was a dumb answer but I didn’t know what else to say.”

            “You thought about it for a while before you said anything.” Marco says. “Did you just pick a random memory and make something up?”

            “Not exactly.” Jean gives him a desperate grin that more closely resembles a scowl. “I . . .  I really don’t want to get into this tonight. Or, like, _ever,_ but I said something weird and I owe you an explanation at least so I guess I have to. But just not . . . not when we’re both drunk.”

            “Does it matter?” Marco shrugs, walking further into the kitchen, and leans on the counter beside Jean. There’s a subtle shift between them, a whisper of tension that flares and disappears. He’s not exactly unaware of what he might say. It makes sense that if Jean felt- that if that particular memory stood out to him- if, if, if. Marco knows he’s a drunken idiot for hoping, for thinking it might be plausible for Jean to have the same feelings he does. But what else could he mean?

            “I guess not.” Jean grimaces, and closes his eyes. “I’m not that drunk yet so it’s still hard,”

            “That’s what she said,” Marco giggles. “Wait, no it’s not. He said that, not her!”

            “You’re such a dipshit. I love you,” he says, chuckling as he shakes his head.

            “I love you too.” Marco says, his voice unintentionally softer. Jean stiffens.

 

            “W-what? What did you say?” Jean’s not sure what’s going faster, his heart or his head. He must’ve misheard him, Marco must’ve said something else-

            “I said I love you too.” Tentatively, Marco’s fingers brush against his, and the contact sends Jean over the edge.

            “No, I mean- I _love_ you. Marco, I’m in love with you.” There’s a brief moment when Jean feels his heart die in his chest ( _oh god he doesn’t feel the same way I totally misread that now he’s going to hate me_ ) before Marco flashes him one of his most brilliant smiles and leans closer.

            “I’m in love with you,” he says simply. Jean lets his eyes flutter closed, unconsciously leaning towards him.

            “Oh my _god_ , finally!” With a whoop, Sasha and Connie come crashing into the kitchen.

            “What the fuck?” Jean’s first instinct is to back away, but Marco covers his hand with his own, determinedly holding him in place.

            “Yeah, I’ll second that. What the fuck?” he says, frowning as they watch Sasha and Connie proudly high five.

            “You finally got over yourselves and confessed to each other!” Sasha says brightly.

            “And we only meddled a little bit,” Connie smirks at them.

            “I don’t know, your whole plan was more than a little bit convoluted.” Mina says with a toss of her shoulders. Jean scowls at the doorway- how long has she been standing there?

            “You were in on whatever the hell they were doing?” Marco says, aghast. Mina primly smirks at him.

            “Not at first; I really did have a tiny crush on you when we first met. After you told me you’re gay, that was that.”

            “Until Marco mentioned you were moving to Jinae.” Sasha says, eagerly rubbing her hands together. “I bribed Mina with baked goods to pretend to have it bad for Marco, knowing one day soon, Jean would return to his side. Then, I created the opportunity for Jean to pretend to be his boyfriend to get the weird, clingy Mina off his case-”

            “Seriously?” Mina’s huff was cut off by Connie’s laughter.

            “The plan kind of fell apart after that, but it still worked!” he says happily. Jean groans, rubbing his face with both hands.

            “You were all in on it. I hate you all so much right now,”

            “Why?” Marco squeezes his hand. “It worked, didn’t it? I’m happy,”

            “I’m happy too, but let’s get the fuck out of here.”

            “Spoilsports! You should stay and let me bask in the warm glow of my victory!” Sasha says, cackling. Jean flips her off, grabbing Marco’s hand and pulling him towards the door.

            “Our coats-”

            “Got ‘em,” he says, pushing past Connie and snagging their coats as they all but run past the coat hooks.

 

            “I can’t believe them!” Jean moans, yet again, as he and Marco walk through Jinae’s silent streets. Marco laughs, rubbing his thumb along the back of Jean’s hand.

            “You can’t, not even a little?”

            “I’m not surprised but that’s not the same thing.”

            “I guess,” Marco says offhandedly. “I’m so glad they did it, though.”

            “Fuck them! But yeah, I’m happy. Almost wish I’d had the balls to say something sooner.” Jean frowns, sneaking a glance at Marco. “I’m sorry I didn’t sooner than this,”

            “I’m not.” Marco says decisively, and Jean feels his heart pound at his sureness. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this, I love knowing you feel the same. But I don’t regret a second of the time I’ve spent with you.”

            “Not even all the times we could have been having sex?” he says, half joking.

            “No.” Marco stops, and slowly brings Jean’s hand to his lips before pressing it against his cheek. “Okay, parts of me might regret it-”

            “Haaah, called it!”

            “-but your friendship isn’t a lame second prize to me, Jean. I adore you,” Marco says, his voice soft, and kisses him gently on the heel of the hand. Their eyes lock, then slowly, Jean takes a step towards him and closes the distance between them with a solid kiss. Marco’s lips are cold and somewhat chapped, but they warm quickly when Jean kisses him again and again. He only intended on one brief, chaste kiss but he can’t seem to stop. Marco’s tongue is hot when it skims along his lower lip, his arms tightening almost painfully around him before he takes a step back. “Let’s get home.”

            “Y-yeah,” The winter wind cuts through his jacket, catching the ends of his scarf and making them fly, but that isn’t what makes him shiver.

 

           

 

 


End file.
